Code of Honor

54

The First Lady waited in recovery with Niu while Dr. Berryhill went to the waiting area to talk to the Songs. Nurses and orderlies scrambled back and forth in the hallway, buzzing about something she didn’t quite follow. One of the Chinese visitors had gotten ill. She didn’t have time to think about that. The girl’s grandfather would be in at any moment. But she didn’t even devote too much brain time to that. Her patient was right here in front of her. She was what was important.

A circle of white gauze covered the little girl’s eye. She was conscious but groggy, and probably wouldn’t remember much of the next few minutes — which was just fine with Cathy Ryan. Mo Richardson stood by in scrubs like an extra nurse. It was reassuring, having her there. Cathy tried not to take the people who protected her for granted, but it was difficult not to when she was going on with the minutia of daily life. And Mo Richardson made it look so easy.

The real nurse, a slender brunette named Amy, went about her business, calm as could be, apparently not at all fazed by the fact that she had the First Lady and Secret Service agent (who was now armed with a pistol under her scrubs) in the same room. The surgery had gone well, considering. The tumor was confined to the anterior wall of the eye and just small enough that they were able to use lasers to destroy the blood vessels that supplied it. Niu would need to have the procedure done again, probably twice, and chemotherapy, too.

Amy touched Niu on her forehead, said something to her in English. The little girl smiled, then her good eye fluttered shut.

Cathy stood with her back to the door when Berryhill brought the Songs into recovery. As she suspected, they ignored everyone else and rushed to their granddaughter’s bedside. Mrs. Song all but collapsed, taking the groggy child’s hand. She closed her own eyes. Cathy couldn’t understand the words but knew the feeling very well. This woman was praying.

Dr. Berryhill let them have a moment or two, then continued to explain what he’d found, future options, the good chance that Niu would retain at least most of her sight in the affected eye. She needed to rest, he explained, and would be fine to go to the hotel in an hour or so, as soon as they were certain there were no ill effects from the anesthesia.

Overwhelmed with relief, General Song looked up and noticed Cathy for the first time.

He stepped closer, sparing his wife the conversation but drawing an intercepting check from Mo Richardson.

Cathy raised her hand. “It’s okay.”

“I suspected they would send someone,” Song said, deadpan. His English was perfect, with the hint of a British accent from training in Hong Kong. “But I must say, that they would send you is quite astonishing.”

“So,” Cathy said. “You know who I am?”

“Of course, Mrs.… Dr. Ryan. Am I to assume you performed the surgery?”

“I assisted,” she said. “Dr. Berryhill and I were classmates in medical school. Your granddaughter is in extremely capable hands with him.” She paused a beat, then added, “My husband wants me to convey his sympathy and best wishes. And to let you know that there are no strings attached with this surgery.”

“But?” Song said, savvy enough to know there was bound to be more.

“But he is worried,” Cathy said. “He believes you to be a patriotic but practical man. A man who does not wish to see his country plunged into unnecessary conflict.”

“I see,” Song said, glancing at the door. “Was that your doing? I am speaking of Mr. Tsai.”

Cathy shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She cast a sideways glance at Mo Richardson. “But I can tell by the look in my friend’s eyes that it probably was. They apparently kept me out of that part, whatever happened.”

“Will he live?”

Cathy shot another look at the Secret Service agent, who gave a tiny nod.

“Apparently so,” Cathy said.

Song studied her carefully through exhausted eyes. “Your candor is appreciated. I am glad you did not kill him. I do not care for Tsai, but his death would have made things much more difficult for me at home. Still, I am not unhappy to be rid of him for a few minutes.” He pursed his lips, bracing himself. “What is your message, Dr. Ryan?”

Jack had warned her about this part. Song would surely memorize every word she said, dissecting it for intelligence of his own. CIA officers underwent months of training to learn how to make this kind of pitch. She had to create a situation where the general would not feel as though he was violating his personal code. At the same time, she didn’t want to give away the farm by letting him know too much about intelligence the U.S. already had.

In the end, she decided she was not a trained agent handler, but an ophthalmic surgeon — and a damned good one. She’d never have time to learn how to turn a foreign national into an American asset — so she decided not to attempt it.

“Look, General Song,” she said. “I’m a mother, a wife, a concerned citizen who just wants a peaceful world for my grandkids to grow up in. Admittedly, I hear a lot more scary stuff than the average citizen because of who my husband is, but I’m no different in what I want for my family. Neither is Jack.” She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “He’s worried that something is going on, a kind of power struggle inside China. Something dangerous that’s not necessarily sanctioned by your government.”

“You have helped my granddaughter,” Song said, matter-of-factly. “I am grateful for this. But I will not betray my country.”

“I understand,” Cathy said. “And so does Jack.” She purposely refrained from calling him “the President.” This was a one-human-being-to-another discussion. Not world leader’s wife to world leader’s general.

“Had you asked me about the Spratly Islands,” Song said at length, “or our military strength, or anything of that sort, I would have walked away. To be quite frank, I am not what you Americans would call ‘in the know.’ I do, however, have my suspicions, and I would confirm what your husband believes. The chairman has China’s best interests at heart. If he is given a weapon, something to make China stronger, I am sure he would use this thing, no matter how many people had to die in order to get it — just as your husband would use it for America. But taking something that is offered and ordering the methods used to achieve it are vastly different things.”

Cathy kept her face passive, but thought how far off that notion was from Jack’s personal philosophy.

“I will tell you this,” Song went on. “One of our generals, General Bai — your husband will know the name — has become quite brazen in his claims to the chairman. In truth, I know little of these claims, only that he is making promises regarding war.”

He fell silent. A more professional operative might have let him stew, but Cathy couldn’t stand it for long. “Promises? Why would anyone want a war? What could possibly be the end game?”

Song gave a sad chuckle. “You Americans always give your opponent too much credit. Sometimes, more often than not, I think, there is no master plan, just a brave — or reckless — person with the power to make things move. Do not forget, in 1961 the Soviets had no idea how to get Gagarin back to earth in his space capsule. They wanted to lay claim to putting the first man in space, so they sent him up anyway and had him bail out as the capsule fell to earth.”

“That’s a plan of sorts,” Cathy mused.

“Part of a plan,” Song corrected. He turned halfway to check on his granddaughter, speaking almost to himself. “And I wonder if General Bai has much more than that small piece of a plan he is making up as he goes along.” Song looked suddenly at Cathy. “Do you know what you Americans have over us in China?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Over us,” he said. “Superior to us. Maybe I am saying it incorrectly. You outspend us by far on your defense budget, but it is far more than that. The difference is, we only train. The United States military has fighting experience. General Bai has a calligraphy on his wall that translates to something like: One does not prepare for war with practice. One prepares for war with war. Bai is a general who has grown tired of scenarios and games. I believe he wants a fight.”

Song leaned in ever so slightly, prepared now to divulge the crux of his message.

“General Bai is very self-assured when he speaks to the chairman, going so far as to say he can assure a certain victory with any adversary in an armed conflict. You may tell your husband there is an operation under way called FIRESHIP, but I have no idea what it is. I am, however, certain of one thing: Mutually assured destruction is still complete destruction. No one wins. Like you, Dr. Ryan, my wife and I want a peaceful world for our granddaughter. Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I have committed enough treason for the day.”